


Undergrounders, Unfinished WIP, plot ideas

by featherpheonix



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Barman!Xiumin, Dancer!Kai, F/M, Hitman!AU, I AM SORRY, M/M, MAMA!AU, Racer!Baekhyun, Superpower!AU, badboy!kai, it will be one pair per oneshot, just ideas, not finished and unfortunately not in progress either, not really good at tagging, spy!kyungsoo, stalking!au, these are only snippets, they are not finished, they are the ones that are mentioned, undergrounders would have been the main monster fic but...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9310271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherpheonix/pseuds/featherpheonix
Summary: Decided to post unfinished fic ideas that i had sometime ago but never had the time to finish them. Undergrounders would have been the main because i had this amazing spy!/hitman!au with twins and everything but.... Because i feel so sorry about not doing so, feel free to take them if you have creative thoughts about them.





	1. Undergrounders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his twenty two years of life, Kai never thought he’ll ever have to deal with weapons and spies despite his love for illegal stuffs. Dragged into an unknown world without his will he has to learn and apply. It never passed his head that he’ll actually be recruited. In another country. His native one especially. Meeting someone unexpected.

 

 

  1. Integration



There’s a heavy groan as his head bangs against the concrete wall as he crouches down. His lungs are on fire and he can barely feel his legs anymore. He swears his muscles must have ripped because it hurts so badly. He tries to pause his heaving for a moment, be careful if they are still around or not and as he hears nothing he thinks he must have gotten away. He hasn’t taken those marathon practices for nothing after all. Suddenly, he’s proud of his high school performances, even thou he has never been a topic to talk about.

The problem child, he remembers. His hands tremble as they pass through his hair, fingers tangling in messy knots. He sits in silence for another five minutes, eyes running alert from place to place, then he detaches from the wall and peaks around, coming out of his hideout. There is no movement, no sound and he believes it’s save enough to just start running again. And he does so, red sneakers tapping the ground as he bolts away faster than lightening.

__Shit__! Another successful sneak out, he’s confident enough as he starts to quiet down the pace, walking casually as he enters the main street, two blocks away from his home. He smiles as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, fingers feeling the edge of his phone. His brand new phone, bought with not so legal money, won in illegal betting.

He’s so proud.

 

 

He throws his jacket someone around the desktop chair being nearby the bed and not where it’s originally supposed to be. He sighs in defeat because he has to admit, coming home is not his most ideal thing to do, not when you have a single mother with a three year old infant trying for a better life with a man not so civilized and... ideal for a husband.

So, each time, he first kisses his baby brother, salutes his mother, eats and then goes to his room carrying his little one when he’s not sleeping and involving himself in endless playing until they both get too tired. He loves his family, at least his part of family, that part of family that doesn’t involve that rude man, even tho Ethan is his son. He loves the tiny soul too much to ever carry hard feelings.

Today, he’s already asleep tho, so no kid playing, no giggling and baby laughter. He simply crashes onto the bed, groaning at the impact. He needs potassium. His body seriously needs some vitamins and minerals cause his muscles are practically screaming in pain and he knows it’s not from a little run. It must be more than that.

He lies there motionless, baring himself of the world until he hears the front door slamming. Then the voice of his mother and the voice of a man and he’s glad he ate out today, no longer hungry. He doesn’t move, doesn’t change his position, doesn’t breathe too loud. It takes less than five minutes to hear the raising voices, the rough tone of the older man and the starting crying of a baby. It is then when he sighs out loud.

He looks at the clock, reading a little past five in the evening and he bites his lip. Then crawls on his knees until he’s up and out of bed, body heading toward the shield that his door forms. He breathes deeply as he opens it and faces the reality he doesn’t fancy too much.

He passes by the living room not speaking a world, trying to not pay attention at the rushed words spoken out of anger or tiredness or whatever other reason. He has only one reason to be out of his room and that is to take his brother out of this mess.

His heart breaks when he hears him sobbing in his crib, big tears rolling down his round cheeks. He tries to smile as he raises him into his arms, his voice soft and childish when he starts talking to him, distracting him.

“Wanna do something fun? Huh? What about we go and search for birdie...” he murmurs in small voice, arms protecting his brother and trying to soothe him down. The little arms curl around his neck and the wet face disappears into the crook of his collarbone, hiding exactly as he does when he’s sleeping.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go and play with birdy, okay?!” he tells and makes his way back to his room, ignoring the voice of the man that continues to pollute the air of his home and his mother’s cry of his name. ”And then we’ll go and watch it play with its friends, yeah?”

 He doesn’t want to talk to them, not with anyone. He pulls his brother closer to his chest and closes the door behind them as they make it to the room. Sometimes he hates his mom as well; he just cannot understand why they are still standing there in those conditions, why she decides to stay when they could just pack and move, and live without him and be calm and at peace.

He cannot understand her, as much as he tries to.

So he murmurs along to his brother until they reach the bed and sit comfortably, the baby still refusing to let go of his neck but at least stopping sobbing. Kai can only move around blindly until he finds the plush toy that the kid likes as much as he did when he was a kid on his own. The old Pororo plush is the only thing he endeared as a kid, spending all his childhood with it, still keeping it around even in his teenage period, even now in his adulthood.

His heart burst with happiness when he saw his brother as well took fond of the old toy, playing with it dearly and yet keeping it intact as if knowing it’s dear to Kai and must be protected. He smiles when he sees his brother face lighting up at the sight of the penguin and he laughs when he starts a tickling attack that makes the little one pout and makes grabby hands for the toy.

It’s half past five and the sounds outside the room start to fade away as he laughs with his tiny baby, keeping them busy while playing.

He may do a lot of stupid things but being a good older brother is what he does best.

Later, when he wakes up, there is a blanket covering both him and his baby brother, the two of them laying together into a self made cocoon. His neck is a little stiff, his pillow protecting his brother and his whole body curled around the other as in creating a protective shield against any kind of harm. It wouldn’t be the first time for him to get beaten up.

He bites his lip as he searches for his phone and half panics when he detects the time. It’s past eleven and he should have been out already but then he glances at the tiny soul into his arms and his heart is heavy at the thought of leaving. He cannot as much as he hates missing out, he cannot leave him alone.

And like that, putting his head back on his own shoulder and with his eyes glued to his baby, he slowly detaches himself of troubles and worries.

He just missed his biggest bet of the month; but it’s not like races aren’t organized ever again.

 

 

Somewhere on the other side of the city, a tiny silhouette slowly starts to lose its patience. It swings softly from one leg to the other watching the crowd of people a good distance in front of him. It irks him why he cannot spot the familiar face among the others, why the boy isn’t there like he should be.

There is one last clench of jaw before he finally beeps the device on his wrist. A short sound pierces his hearing and he knows he’s on.

“You’re just losing time and people patience, trust me. He’s not here and you just got tricked...” he speaks in low voice but he knows the other end hears him clearly. There’s a chuckle and he frowns. They should be pissed not amused.

__“Of course he’s not, if he hadn’t left his bed since he came home... Get going, I don’t want you in trouble!”__  and he knows it’s an order only by the sudden drop of tone in his timbre.

It’s like a premonition or sixth sense because as he turns his back on the crowd and walks for about ten meters there are police sirens echoing through the silence of the nights. He smiles while shaking his head. Or it’s just like the other just called the cops.

 

 

When Kai turned thirteen his life started to slowly downfall. His parents started to not get along, the quarrels, the tears, the missed nights from home, it all started when Kai was living his thirteenth year of life. He didn’t really know how to cope when his parents suddenly told him they weren’t going to live under the same roof; he didn’t really know how to react when the divorce was made official.

Sure, he loved them both, sure, he was getting along with both of them, sure, he understood that they weren’t going to see each other each morning like they used to and yet he found himself not doing any of those when he’d been informed – in a sudden breakdown his mother had – that he wasn’t even a biological son.

Sure, he still loved his mother and yet he started to understand better maybe why the person he used to call father suddenly took his bags and went out of his life.

Kai’s thirteenth year of life was a hell of a year now that he sits down and reminiscences and he cannot help but pray that nothing similar to him will ever happen to the baby into his arms, not when at least he’ll be able to remember because Kai still has hope each night he goes to sleep that their life will get better and that the man into their life now will be gone one day.

His baby brother seriously doesn’t need any of the drama caused by such events. His baby brother needs to keep his innocence for as long as possible because maybe from his thirteenth year of life, Kai, suddenly, started to mess up with his own path in life.

He laughs when the boy burps after finishing his food and starts moving into his chair, wanting release. He quickly takes the bowl and all the used utensils and places them into the sink. He then picks up the little one, massaging his back as he takes the lead to the living room.

He’s meet with his mother buried into pile of papers and he doesn’t dare to ask if those are her work papers or it they are actually bills to pay. He takes a deep breath while placing his brother in the middle of the couch, surrounding him with his toys.

“He ate all and I changed him before eating, so no need to worry....I’ll be out for a while, yeah?”  

His mother looks up at the sound of his voice and sends him a brief smile and a hurried thank you. She then looks at Ethan, takes some of the papers with her and heads towards the couch.

“Will you be late?!” she asks and Kai shakes his head because he really doesn’t plan to spend too much time out. “Okay, take care then and call me if anything happens, right?” she looks at him firmly, still remembering some interesting episodes her son had a few times ago.

He smiles, then nods and leans over to give her a quick kiss. He mutters a soft __thanks__  and then, with a last glance to them both, he’s out, taking his jacket as he starts climbing down the staircase.

 

__“He’s out. Take care of him and don’t do anything idiotic!”_ _

__“As if I ever...”_ _

 

He has no idea what went wrong. He swears there must be some bad luck chasing after his arse or something because this cannot be happening. He’s pretty sure he was far away from all the fiasco when the sirens rang through London underground.

Apparently, he was wrong because he is now sitting on a chair at a police station, handcuffs.


	2. Surreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hyung, do you remember our promise?” his voice is soft yet hoarse, having just woken up. They blink once, twice, silence engulfing them both, the warmth of the sheets making their skin burn. One curls closer, arms sneaking around slim waist, pressing the lithe body against his chest.

 

 

October is an annoying month. At least for Jongin. It rains and the wind blows and it’s cold and – no, actually, it pours – he hates it. It’s such gloom weather with nothing to do outside because of the rain and that feeling you get when you can’t feel your fingers anymore. It’s not winter yet but it feels like it.

He rolls onto the bed and sighs loudly, the sound echoing through the empty house. It pours outside; he’s home alone and bored to the bone. Not even the small puppy sleeping curled up onto a pillow doesn’t entertain him anymore and that says something from Jongin who’s insane about dogs and puppies. The small ball of fluff rest peacefully and he cannot bring himself to wake it up.

So he has the whole penthouse all for himself and his breathing. He strains his ears to hear the tickling of the clock and almost groans when he notices how slowly the time moves which is illogic because that cannot happen but –

It’s not even eleven and he misses Kyungsoo like mad.

He decides to go back to sleep as he struggles to get rid of the house slippers while taking off his sweater. He bounces back into bed and surrounds himself with the blanket, losing himself through the warmth of his self improvised cocoon. He yelps when he feels the little fluff curling against his stomach seeking warmth and he brings his knees up and cuddles with the little breathing soul.

At least they are both together and Jongin feels a little less alone.

 

 

Something tickles him when he wakes up and he blinks blindly trying to get aware of his surroundings. It’s noon he notes as he looks toward one window, not sunny anymore but not yet evening. He waits half a minute in search of any movement or sound but nothing comes and that means he’s still alone. Then the puppy moves again, its small paws clawing at the inside of his arm as it yawns and Jongin feels like a pool of goo at the sight.

He straightens his bones as he pecks the creature on its head and takes it into his hands. He crawls out of bed heavily, his body full of sleep and laziness.

“Let’s get you to your potty, little one!”

Ten minutes later – after trying to indulge the puppy to do its needs – he finds himself against the wall length window, starring outside, watching how it still pours over the gray city. He might not live in a metropolis but the city still looks awful when it rains, the water washing all the concrete around, making everything black and gloomy. At least the air gets cleared as well...

He drags his slippers back to the bed, searching for his sweater and once having it into his hands he pulls if over, body warming up as he takes the way to the kitchen in search for food. He finds the fridge half full and has no regret when he takes the food with him, back to the bed.

He never eats to the table when he’s alone.

He’s halfway with it when he hears the front door and he doesn’t know if he should be glad or angry or scared. He has multiple reasons for multiple feelings and he doesn’t get to choose either of it because it’s been seconds and he has a nice pair of lips attached to his own, all his thoughts long forgotten at the feeling of soft, so soft skin.

The air around him gets humid and he groans. Their lips part for seconds before gluing back together, now the kiss rougher, lips adding pressure against his. He moans and leans into the other, brain barely registering the bowl being taken away from his hands. Yet his legs uncross and flex as in trying to stand up, trying to match the other’s height and being kind enough for his back.

“Missed you!” it’s a whisper against lips as his fingers reach the white, wet jacket.  

“You know we don’t eat in bed, Jongin...” and he groans as he takes a step back from the silhouette. The other has his bowl well kept into his hand and he can sense the intention of him getting away to the kitchen with it and he wants to beg but doesn’t know what for; for food or for more kisses.

He chooses to smile and follow the other back to the kitchen.

“If you were here ten minutes earlier you wouldn’t have found me eating there...”

“Neither if I were another ten minutes late....” the teasing comes back to him and he pouts, arms crossing against his chest as he leans against the counter. His eyes darken when he sees the other placing the bowl on the table, hands quickly reaching up the jacket’s collar. He counts five seconds until the zipper is all opened and the jacket slides over toned shoulders and strong arms and let next to the bowl.

He wants to bite back because that’s not where they usually let their clothes and that’s not hygienic because the jacket is all wet and probably dirty but then the other is in front of him and his hand comes in contact with his forearm. The fingers are warm, so warm and he wants more, he wants himself pressed against the other, covered in kisses.

He feels the tug on his arm and the face in front of him twitches, corners of the lips tugging down slowly, the other trying hard not to smile, not to laugh and Jongin feels desire to kiss that oppressed smile.

“What! You disappeared all day and kept me waiting...” he tells in small voice, suddenly all the energy inside his body vanishing as he glances at the other. He feels so little when he feels those eyes dig until they reach the depth of his soul, those eyes he cannot bring himself not to look at. His pout intensifies but he knows better when the fingers around his elbow start to drum a slow rhythm, the hand on his forearm going up and circling his torso. He knows better.

So the lean is predictable and they meet halfway in a tender kiss and now that the jacket is gone he can lean into with his whole body. It’s comical, because he’s the taller one, he’s the one that has wider shoulders and he should be the one hugging the other but he feels so small around Kyungsoo that he cannot bring himself not to crave his protection. It’s funny but he __needs__  his protection.

When both of the other’s arms meet behind his back, keeping him secure against him, allowing their body heat to tangle, he breaks the kiss and hides his face into the crook of his neck. He tries to sneak his arms out of the embrace and return the gesture, action that he gets to succeed and he brings the other even closer, no inch between them, getting the man out of balance and moving him from his spot. He seeks warmth, __his__  warmth and he doesn’t want to let it go. He’s selfish like that.

“I missed you so much!” it’s a murmur but the other feels it into his bones, tightening the grip around him, humming softly and kissing the skin above the collar of his sweater.

“Missed you back! I’m sorry! I’ll try harder next time,” it’s a promise they both know it will be so hard to keep because they cannot control time. Time is so unreachable, so out of control, so unknown for them now. “I’ll move faster... I won’t let you alone anymore for so long...” the velvet voice almost lulls Jongin back to sleep, the soft kisses on his skin fondling his heart, his loneliness.

“Don’t want you to leave, not without me....” he wails into his hold, fingers digging into the other’s back. It’s so hard lately, to be one without the other, to spend time alone, apart from one another.

“I’m here now! I won’t leave for a while, I hope at least...”it’s followed by a chuckle that Jongin doesn’t believe. He leans his face even deeper into the other’s skin, smelling the fragrance that haunts him for the last ten years.

“You don’t know that! I felt so alone today, slept all day long....”

“Ninisoo?”

“It can’t replace you hyung.... I love him a lot but – “

“Shh.... I’m here! Let’s go back to bed, do you want to?” his voice is so soft and velvet that Jongin can’t feel his body anymore. He hums through, arms circling the other’s neck, fingers playing with the hairline at the base of his nape.

“I want to kiss you... all day long, for all the hours spent away!” and they both laugh at their childishness, the taller finally departing his face from the warmth of his shoulder. They stare into each other’s eyes for a while, thumbs rubbing exposed skin.

Jongin bites his lip as the other parts his own, words on the tip of his tongue. He feels the right hand pressing against his waist and the left hand rising up to his nape. The pulse increases in milliseconds, his heartbeat going nuts and he smiles when the other’s eyes tell silent promises.

“What is stopping you?! I already offered my cuddles...” the words are spoken against his lips, both of their bodies pressed together into one. They smile in the same time, the grip around his waist tightening, making him lose his breath.

Each time it has the same effect.

 

 

To survive, Jongin needs to breath in Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo needs to exhale Jongin in return. It’s like that; they function together, completing each other’s vital functions ever since they shared the first hand hold. It’s not a short time since then.

It’s sunny outside when he wakes up; it’s the first thing he notices because the light almost blinds him. Then his sight falls over the body next to his and he relaxes back against his pillow. The other curls gently, body inching closer to his only to groan for a brief moment but not waking up yet. Jongin is confused but then he also feels the little ball against the side of his torso and he smiles, slowly turning toward it and gently getting it out of the way, moving the pup a little further on the pillow as he gets a little lower, resting his head against the side of Kyungsoo.

He feels fingers run through his hair and he embraces the man, kissing the centre of his chest through the black wife beater. Then he melts when he has his nape massaged with soft movements.

“Love you,” he hears and he fights the laughter inside his chest, choosing to keep his eyes closed and ears focused on the heartbeats. Then there are rustling noises and he feels the vibration of the groan.

“Why is Ninisoo on the pillow.... Jongin, i’m gonna lock him in the bathroom,” the complaints come one after the other, making him raise his head and look sleepily at the other, ready to wail back.”Why did you bring him up....”

“No, he looks miserable down there....”

“It’s his bed, Jong – “

“Noo.... he’s gonna sleep with us,” he tries to crawl back up on his elbows, stopping inches away from the other’s face. “Please, don’t let him sleep alone” he bats his eyelashes, his eyes increasing in dimension just like a puppy’s. Kyungsoo stares and Jongin knows that the stern look is not because he disagrees but because of his poor eyesight that is even worse in the mornings.

“What do I get in return...” and he doesn’t even finishes because Jongin is right there to comply, adding peck after peck and kiss after kiss just to make the elder laugh. They are stupid together in the morning.  The laughter drowns with the last kiss, that lasts longer and that is deeper, stronger and hungrier.

They break apart when Kyungsoo pulls him closer and manages to roll them around, both lying on their sides. He gets ticklish when he’s being kissed all over his jaw and neck and then down on the collarbones. He laughs but pushes the other away, taking in the sight in front of him once again. His partner is beautiful, fingers flying into black hair, curling with ease through it.

“Isn’t he the nicest present?”

“No...”

“How so, he is the nicest because we get free kisses because of him...”

“No. You’ll have to get him out for walks....” the older hides his face back into the pillow and pushes the blanket up to his head. Jongin laughs.

“How’s that a problem, hyung?! Admit it, he’s the best!”

“No... I wanted us to stay all day in bed....” and Jongin burst out loud because that is the sweetest thing Kyungsoo said in the last five days. He calms down and tugs at the sheets, pulling the other back into a deep kiss. He makes sure to bite his lip when he parts, eyes glued to the other’s.

“And do what, hyung?” he whispers lowly, fingers still fighting to keep the sheets away from his face because this morning it seems that his hyung is extremely shy and wants to hide away. He yelps when he receives a strong jab into his ribs and laughs as he quickly stands up. The other immediately pulls the covers back up, transforming himself into a giant sheets worm.

Jongin laughs. “Don’t worry, hyung, I’ll be back in five minutes, tops!” he tells as he softly takes up the puppy, gently waking him up.

Urgent measures take sacrifices.... Kyungsoo groans loudly. Jongin disappears.

 

 

In fact, it takes Jongin six minutes to come back, Kyungsoo actually counted. He’s still in bed when there are loud giggles coming from the bathroom.

“Hyung, it didn’t want to poop, I had to take him to the garden....” and Kyungsoo can see the pout onto the other’s lips just by hearing his wail. He smiles weakly when the bed dips with the Jongin’s weight towering over his.

The younger leans in slowly, his lips brushing over his so tenderly that Kyungsoo feels on fire on the inside. Jongin is always so careful, as if he’s afraid of ruining something fragile, something made of sand. But Kyungsoo is no sand; he’s pure material, raw soil and he’s a mixture of them all, tough concrete. He’s nothing compared to what ideal of him Jongin has and in fact the feeling should be reversed. Jongin is the one needed to be handled with care and tenderness, he’s the one made of perishable air, thin fragments of material, all gathered together into perfect shape and soul.

He curls his arms around his neck when the pecks intensify into real kisses, kissed filled with unspoken emotions just like each time they exist one without the other for longer than half a day. It’s like that their existence on Earth. They need each other to function; they need each other to react.

He shivers when they break the kiss and yet their lips refuse to part. They mingle together, breaths tangling and smiles fondling each one of the lips. Jongin does this as a habit, not being able to pull away from Kyungsoo’s kisses whereas Kyungsoo does it as an addiction, his skin shrinking each time, his chest constricting with want and desire, silently demanding more of the treatment he get only in their sacred time together.

“I’m not going to let you leave again, hyung,” it’s a promise, he knows, and he nods because, yes, it’s what he desires, to never leave the other’s side. He reaches for his nape and runs his fingers at the short undercut as he drowns into the depth of the younger’s eyes.

“I’ll keep you here, all for myself, hyung...” the words become whispers and Kyungsoo almost loses his sanity as his sides are being caressed in different directions. He soon finds himself cornered like a rabbit into a wolf’s den, having his hips pressed down by a strong grip and his right side of head held still with an iron precision.

It’s an instinct to surround his legs around the other’s body and press his lips against the reddish ones. It comes naturally, like a primal instinct for their bodies to react around each other. It comes like a sixth sense, the lust and longing heavily surrounding them both.

“Keep me here, Jongin, just keep me here....”

It ends that they don’t keep each other there because they cannot stop time and enjoy the moment for its ethereal existence. They cannot.

It’s a gloom morning when Kyungsoo has to wake up all alone into their bed. He refuses thou, still remembering the ugly feeling inside his chest when they both woke up at three into the night, Jongin’s body trembling and his eyes glowing with such ugly shininess that Kyungsoo knew on instant what is going to happen.

He always remembers that ugly feeling he gets to live each time he has to kiss Jongin goodbye through his numb state one second before he sees him disappearing.

Despite of it all he still opens his eyes and sighs at the loneliness of the house. It’s bitter how he always gets to live the same sentiment Jongin does in his absence only days after their reunion. He wonders if for the others things are the same and he doesn’t like the thoughts that pass his mind, because of course it is, they are all the same.

It’s just that for him and Jongin things are tougher; the distance between them is always harsher because they are bond one to the other, they are born one for the other to exist and the others aren’t like them.

Kyungsoo feels wetness pricking at his eyes when he spots Ninisoo on the bed, curled up against Jongin’s pillow. His hand goes up in a heartbeat to pet the little soul, fingers scratching under the pup’s noose.

“Guess I have to get you out, right?”

 

 

Unlike Jongin, Kyungsoo doesn’t sleep all day in his absence but as well he has nothing better to do. He spends hours and hours watching the pup play with its toys, he plays with it, lets himself get bitten by soon to become stronger teeth. He does nothing else. He doesn’t read, nor reacts too well to technology, nor gets out of the house. He’s an introvert; he likes silence and places where he can be with himself, with his own thoughts. But without Jongin it feels too silent, he feels too isolated.

At the end of the day, he allows himself to move his activity outside the bedroom, out of bed. He wanders through the kitchen and makes some rice and vegetables for diner and he’s bitter that he doesn’t know how much to make, if he’ll dinner alone or with his partner. He decides to make more, as a measure of precaution. Then he moves back to the bedroom, settling himself for a bath.

He’s in the middle of getting rid of his blouse when his heart bursts with happiness and fright. Happiness because Jongin is right in front of him, he’s back home. Fright because he doesn’t know if he’s okay, if he’s whole and safe again.

Then he feels his hands tremble, body frozen in place because Jongin is so close and yet so far, he’s so cold and pale, so broken. He searches for his eyes, for the warmth into them and his chest constricts because they are filled with tears.

“Jong...” His lips part just as his arms rise toward him. Jongin leans in like a magnet. He’s rigid into his arms and Kyungsoo’s breathe trembles again.

It’s natural for Jongin to always be back sooner than him. It’s in his nature to be faster, quicker but this time it lasted too little, much too little. He’s back too soon and Kyungsoo has this heavy rock sensation in his stomach that keeps him from...

“I just want more time with you.... Hyung, I just need more time with you,” and Kyungsoo can’t help himself but curl closer, keeping him tighter into his arms. He is scared, for both of them. Then he hums a low tune, swinging them both. He knows this calms Jongin, it always had had.

“You’re here, you are home...” he speaks more for himself to believe, to convince himself that Jongin is not a phantasm. Kyungsoo may not be too good with words and he cannot do much but he’s sincere as he holds Jongin and keeps rocking them both until they calm down.

 

 

“Hyung, do you remember our promise?” his voice is soft yet hoarse, having just woken up. They blink once, twice, silence engulfing them both, the warmth of the sheets making their skin burn. One curls closer, arms sneaking around slim waist, pressing the lithe body against his chest.

How can he not remember, when it’s the only thing that rules his entire existence.

 

 

When he wakes up again, soon after the warmth around him seemed to vanish, he blinks his eyes wide open with difficulty. He’s facing the other’s empty side of the bed, the form of the silhouette still imprinted onto the sheets making him believe he just got off. As he strains his ears and finds the house completely silent, he frowns. There’s a headache threatening to make him suffer and he brings his arm over his eyes.

__Where are you?__  Yet he’s completely shut of any response, the house empty and his mind as well.

He tries standing up, first leaning his body into his elbow and looking around the room. It’s almost mid day judging by the light surrounding him and still no sight of Jongin. He scratches at his tangled hairs and sighs. He couldn’t possibly be called again this soon, could he? But he doesn’t remember the other’s body shaking so the chances are minimal. Maybe he’s out.

Maybe.

Because as he passes his hand over the reddish, abused skin of his neck, over all the scratches and bites of his chest, feeling the slight pain striking through his body, he catches sight of the folded paper at the corner of the bed. He doesn’t even think as he lunges forward, landing ungracefully onto his abdomen, hands almost shedding the paper to pieces.

__Fucking shit, Jongin! Now of all the times..._ _

 

 

Seven years ago, Kyungsoo hasn’t been in his greatest shape. His introvert side had been at its peak, so accentuated that he’d become a little antisocial. He wasn’t dealing at all with open spaces, even more with people. He was afraid to interact, to show his face to the wide world. It wasn’t just paranoia eating him alive but the whole fear of messing up; that real fear that sipped deep through his bones: the fear of causing hazards.

Now that he looks at the flow of the Han River he thinks he was a pretty stupid teenager. He remembers he moved from Goyang to Gimpo in his hurry to isolate himself - not that had any good consequences - only because he thought that is he was surrounded by more water would actually help in any way. He was wrong.  Because the more he deprived himself of his element the more unstable he became but what could someone ask a sixteen year old boy.

“Remember when you used to be scared to sit on this bridge?” it comes right from behind him but he doesn’t turn around. He simply smiles as he lets his body heavily hung against the rail, eyes glued to the calm waves. He probably resembles a grown up kid, his height not helping either but he feels nostalgic.

Of course he remembers. It was his first day in Seoul and he’d been scared shitless when Suho brought him up there. He wouldn’t let go of the railing with a gun to his head, even more to open his eyes, and he had good reasons to do so, the full year spent in Gimpo leaving a deep trauma to him in the end. He somehow got tricked and in time he became comfortable with watery surroundings.

Memorable day indeed but even more because he met __Jongin__.  He met the one behind the name Kai that he has seen a week prior when he’d been found out.

“How come you remember that I was scared? It shouldn’t be such a memory to you...” he murmurs, fingers gripping the steel against his chest. He looks up when a cold breeze pass by them. He still doesn’t turn around to Jongin but the other comes beside him, facing the other way, counting cars instead of following waves.

“I was as scared as you were! It was still that time when Suho terrified me even after knowing him for years!”

Kyungsoo smiles, leaning against the right shoulder on his side. He straightens up and faces the body that seems to shiver in a thin white jacket.

“He’s not that bad...” he shoves his hand into the zipper and pulls harshly, tightening the jacket around the lean body. He ignores the snort and the faded __‘you didn’t meet him like it did’__  because he knows it’s a lost cause to ask about it, Jongin never tells. His fingers close the zipper with a precision and clear target up until the very end of the collar. “Shouldn’t wear such thin clothing...”

Jongin is sly. He’d always been and he’ll never change his nature. Kyungsoo knows from how he gets his hand taken and kept captive in the other’s pocket, from how he get’s pulled closer with only the pointing stare the other delivers. Who is he to resist?

There is half a head difference in height between them; 10 centimetres more precisely. Kyungsoo’s height reaches a little below Jongin’s eye level and so he has perfect view of the other’s lips. So it’s easy to decipher the words when he cannot hear anything and has his hand released, tightened into a fist.

“Maybe next time!” and he knows he shouldn’t give up the instinct to look at the tiny thing placed in the centre of his hand but he does anyway and so he gets tricked again, over and over again, to the rest of his life he thinks.

Because there is no one beside him anymore, he’s alone and has just a piece of paper crumpled into his warmed up fist. He decides he’ll punch Jongin sometime.

 

 

 

The brown pup keeps running around and wags its tail in happiness. It’s almost night, long past nine but the weather is too nice to go back inside. Kyungsoo finds out that spending the day in the park close to the Kim’s home is actually relieving in so many ways, especially when you have Jongin with you and a dog; a dog he hadn’t seen in three months.

He smiles when the other returns to the bench and takes a sit beside him, keeping a close eye on the pet. It takes a moment for his glance to turn upon him and his mind blocks. He’s not good with words; he’s not good with people.

“Having fun? Sorry I can’t provide you something more entertaining...”

 


	3. Neonlights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s adrenaline when he steps the gas and flies through city lights. There’s a buzzing thrill that keeps him electrified and he loves the feeling of it, the same feeling he get while watching a certain performer. How could that not be addicting?

 

The sudden change of music startles Baekhyun making him stop his drink midair, sending suspicious looks to the bartender. But Xiumin is clever enough to wriggle his eyebrows at him, smirking faintly as he continues to shake the ordered cocktail. Ever since Baekhyun first stepped into the club on Friday nights, this is the first time when the electronic music changes to some mixture between pop, electro and jazz.

A little frown appears on his forehead and Xiumin seems to notice because there he is, leaning over the bar and shouting something at his ear level.

“Stop worrying and just enjoy!” he ends with a laugh, retreating back as he starts pouring the alcoholic drink into tall glasses, ice clinking loudly as it drops.

And he wants to follow the advice but the few lights turn off and the spotlight now focuses only on a not so big stage, somewhere near the DJ’s booth. And Baekhyun follows the lasers that continue to spin around the club, yet returning to the spotlight after five consecutive spins.

There’s a boy.

There’s a dancer actually and Baekhyun tries to think whether he’d seen him before or not. He remembers that some weeks ago there was Sehun that sometimes offered a show of his movements, fluidity controlling the lanky body. He smiles; but that’s not Sehun, neither Yixing, so he turns again toward Xiumin and prepares to open his mouth.

He doesn’t manage to say anything because he has his mind read, the other leaning over again.

“Sehun’s in China, don’t ask... just watch...” and Baekhyun’s eyes snap up when the music simply bursts and lasers go crazy, both in colour and speed.

OK, he can do that. Just __watch__ ; pushing away the thought that Sehun finally managed to fuck Yixing and go together in a trip to China. But it’s hard for his eyes to watch the performance, the colourful shock making his eyes squint.

Yet once he lands his eyes on the moving body, it’s hard to break the contact. At some point he feels his mouth dry and reaches for his drink again, dark orbs absorbing the lascivious movements performed on the narrowed stage.

The music doesn’t help either, making his breath erratic and eyes close as inappropriate thoughts invade his head. The sensual rhythm mixed with dynamic beats makes him bite his lip, eyes hypnotised by the dark silhouette.

Baekhyun doesn’t know what to feel, so he simply lets himself carried, mind filled with illegal moves for public eyes and words banned spoken out loud in full view. He feels a wave of heat and closes his eyes as his mouth goes slack, fingers tightening around the alcohol glass. He curses inside his head, wishing for the music to just stop.

It’s been a while, he thinks, eyes snapping open to Xiumin who forgets for a moment to do anything but watch as well the free rated performance. Baekhyun can’t do it anymore, because the pressure in his guts doesn’t allow him anymore. He thanks his needs with only listening to the slow – slower – music.

He has no idea how long it passes or when the music stops, the hectic rhythm from before once again making bodies to jump and dance. He has no idea for how long he stares blankly into thin air, Xiumin’s words not reaching him. But the touch on his hand, he feels it; it wakes him up.

“That intense had been? Never thought you’d breakdown this easily...” it’s a teasing tone Baekhyun knows only from the sexual allusions they often – too often in Baekhyun’s opinion – make usually when Sehun’s an asshole and decides to mess with anyone in his way.

Baekhyun glances back to the place the dancer performed surprised that everything seems like never happened. He gapes, hand sweaty and warm, too warm for his liking. He drinks the rest of the drink in one gulp, attention back to Xiumin.

“Who was that?” he’s left agape because Xiumin only smirks with a sudden wink and says nothing more as he disappears to serve other clients.

So Baekhyun does what he knows best; controls himself. He gulps down the rest of the drink and makes his leave from the bar. He needs to move; he needs to breathe. He tries his best to make his way out of the moving, buzzing crowd surrounding him, crossing the club with difficulty.

He barely makes out alive, he thinks, his clothes all ravished when he’s at the front door, fresh air hitting his lungs in waves. It’s refreshing, skin shrinking, nostrils burning, lungs enjoying. He passes by a group of teenagers and gets his place against the building, somewhere silent, private. No one is around him and he smiles at the thought that people don’t take breaks for smokes too often when they go clubbing, preferring the liquid toxins or solid, pill-like ones.

He has a stick between his fingers already but he’s still searching for his lighter and he curses when he realizes he’d let it next to his glass.

__Fuck__! and he’s almost giving up the idea of taking a drag until he spots someone away from him, somewhere where the streetlight doesn’t reach completely. There is smoke coming out from something between his fingers and Baekhyun suppress a smile because the guy looks a little bit suspicious, alone, brooding in dark corners  but who is he to judge as he watches the other’s left hand pricking at the cap’s peak.

“Hey, do you mind?” he calls out for the other, making him turn his head only. Baekhyun considers taking a step closer because the cap over his eyes and the darkness doesn’t allow him to see his face but gives up. “Do you have a lighter?”

And he’s surprised when the guy simply throws the thing away to his direction. He catches it, letting a __thank you__  slip his lips, and once he has his cigar burning he takes long steps toward the guy.

“Here, thanks man!” he says after dragging smoke deep into his lungs, hand extended with the lighter. The guy finally turns around completely, taking the plastic thing from between his fingers. He doesn’t look up and Baekhyun can’t say he wants him to because he’s a stranger – a strange one – and it makes his blood run a little cold with his whole posture.

 “Anytime, dude,” the words are muffed and husky and Baekhyun thinks that maybe he’d smoked too much. So he nods and gets away, returning to his spot in the lightened area, long drags of smoke filling his lungs.

 

 

 

 Baekhyun feels like shit. His eyes burn and his throat itch.

“Remember me, why I’m the one driving you home?” Xiumin’s driving. He is in the driver’s seat and keeping the car running while Baekhyun is slowly dying in his misery. He’s drunk. Wasted. He can’t walk straight.

“Because you asked me to wait for you to finish your shift...” he murmurs between groans as he squirms into his seat, bringing his left leg up. “Fuck, damn it.... Has this car always been this small?” he asks no one in particular because one, it was his car, and two, he can’t find a comfortable position for his drunken state.

“Stop wriggling, you’re drunk anyway, you won’t rest either way...”

“Fuck you, Xiumin, my bones hurt,” he wails but the other laughs in his face, the car speeding once they have the road free. “You still haven’t told me about that dancer...” he moans while rubbing his temples, trying to gain some energy.

The laughter grows louder. He frowns, turning his look toward the short one.

“There is nothing to tell... no one knows a shit about him,” the frown on Baekhyun’s face grows even deeper, his mouth falling open in some sort of awe. “He just comes and dances...”

“What?” he’s dumbfounded. Suddenly the words make no sense in his head.

“Yeah, Sehun tried approaching him some time ago but he got nothing. He’s not hired to the club, yet he comes periodically and dances,” Xiumin stops for a while and Baekhyun feels the need to make him continue. His mouth stays quiet thou, only eyes beckoning the elder to talk.

He’s.... curious.

“The boss even gives us money to pay him for the show he makes but...” there’s a hiss on the other’s lips. “You never catch him once he’s off stage... it’s strange you know... running after someone you don’t even know exactly how he looks like...” he laughs and Baekhyun just wants to...

“What?” his jaw hangs open.

“Baek – just... what the fuck, stop drooling, dude... wake up!” he gets a nudge and he straightens away in his seat, back resting against the door.

“Tell me,” he wails again, his voice annoying, hand reaching for Xiumin’s arm in a failed pull.

“What?! Sometimes he gets the money – Sehun usually runs after him – sometimes he just disappears...we only recognize him by a black cap he always wears, nothing more, “there’s disappointment in his voice and Baekhyun understands. He really does with –

He frowns, suddenly remembering the man smoking in the dark. He had a cap as well...

“He should just get hired –“

“He doesn’t want to. He just wants to dance... and damn, with those moves, he –“

“Yeah, he puts quite a show...” and the car suddenly turns, planting Baekhyun with his face straight into the dashboard. He groans again as Xiumin reduces the speed, letting out an amused chuckle.

 

 

 

It’s insane how Baekhyun can’t concentrate enough for the next two weeks. His head is flowed with thoughts and none of them are about work or family department. There are thoughts of music, dance, clubbing, slim silhouettes and sensual movements. None of it about work or what he should eat tonight and he curses Xiumin for it.

So he rubs his forehead as he exits his car, the trace of a faint headache making him grumpy. On his way to the elevator he fishes out his phone and texts the older man. He’s bored and has no idea how to entertain himself.

He rests his head against the elevator’s wall as he watches the ceiling lights. He plans of taking a long warm bath and maybe run a movie marathon. He wonders if Xiumin is free tonight or if he has work because the elder still hadn’t replied. He struggles with the door while he tries to undress his coat in the same time and when he’s about to take of his shoes, the phone alerts a text message.

He checks it and has to stop for a while, thinking hard. __I have work tonight and if you’re that bored can always come and keep me company, also I spotted a black cap through the crowd, maybe you’re interested.__

He just can’t remember any black caps, what is he talking about? But then, with his thumb on the reply, something clicks.

__Oh..._ _

So fuck with the long bath time and lazy atmosphere, he takes the shortest shower in history and runs out the door, foot planted on the gas pedal. It’s not late, barely eight, but who knows what runs thought the stranger’s head and when his thirst for dancing comes.

He speeds across the city with light speed.

As expected he finds the club full, over filled even. He hardly makes it to the bar and he’s already annoyed, being felt up in any and all the possible places on his body. He hates it when people can’t control and touch only what is theirs.

He comes face to face with Chanyeol, the bartender he never really catches when he comes to the club and he’s surprised for a moment, remembering that both Sehun and Yixing are out of country. He smiles and Chanyeol responds leaning closer and muttering words that he supposes are greetings. He can’t really hear over the chaos inside his head.

But he sees him showing the other end of the bar where Xiumin barely has time to breath, moving fast while taking orders and preparing drinks. So Baekhyun nods, telling him he understood and asked for a Blue Lagoon, eyes looking around. His vision is shitty enough even without bright lights electrocuting darkness, so he returns to watching Chanyeol work.

At least the music and the vibrations through his skin are entertaining enough.

 

 

 

He’s drowning his shot when Xiumin appears in front of him, a wide smile on his face. He frowns.

“What?” He screams his lungs, throat burning from the Sambuca he gulped down. Xiumin shakes his head but the smile is still on his face and he doesn’t like it. Xiumin is a classic, good, kind person, someone who is ready to help and tuck you to bed, maybe yell a curse but nothing more and that smile has nothing to do with the definition of Xiumin in Baekhyun’s head. No, he definitely doesn’t like that smile.

He wants to ask some more but the sudden screams behind him and the sudden stop of music makes him close his mouth and turn around. It’s when he hears the DJ’s voice of ‘let’s heat things up’ that he knows it’s that time of the night he’s waited for and his fingertips start to burn.

So this time he’s not surprised when a slim body shines into the spotlight, back turned to the audience, head tilted to the side, cap still on this time, arms held in a position he thinks it’s meant for dancing. Baekhyun licks his lips while waiting, probably mimicking half the audience.

But the other surprises him tonight. Because as the music is slow and lascivious, making the crowd grind and make out with the person beside them, the stranger’s dance is not sexual in any way. While the first time it drove Baekhyun hard from the first five moments, now he is amazed things as in awestruck.

The body moves gracefully, with an undefined sensuality but not obscene, sensuality and grace that give the feeling of ballet dancers, of refined old-age ladies dancing at some ballrooms. His body is covered in thin, simple white tank-top making the whole dance even surreal because you’d expect ordinary dancing, simple, plain body movements. But the moves are slow, fluid but precise, like thought in choreography for quite a long time and finally put into performance.

This time he thinks he has a problem because he’s not getting hard as a result of sexual innuendoes like last time but because of innocent grace that the body emanates. He’s left with his mouth hanging through the whole dance and his eyes simply refuse to break the contact or even blink.

He doesn’t feel nails digging into his palm flesh as the stranger’s steps are calculated and fragile coordinated in a breath taking show. He doesn’t feel a certain wet patch when he moves into his seat but he swears he feels Xiumin’s hand on his arm like ice cold.

 

 

Something is really wrong with him.

 

 

He nags Xiumin in order to find out more about this stranger simply because he can’t find himself at peace without knowing more. He can’t concentrate even if he’d have to fight for his life. He’s a mess. A mess Xiumin brought him into and therefore he’s the one to nag.

He finds nothing new thou, unless the stranger seems to come to the club only at the end of the week as the bartenders noticed. Baekhyun can cope with that; but it’s so frustrating when the boy moves in such ways that are either making him hard in his pants either making him drool in amazement, there is no in between. It’s frustrating because he doesn’t even know his face; he doesn’t even know him, what his name is or what he is.

So when Baekhyun leaves the club – somewhere between morning’s hours and surprisingly sober enough to drive himself home – he swears in his head to come up with a plan. He simply cannot let things like this, the last two weeks being torture enough plus the following one. He’s tired of waking up in the middle of his sleep just because he dreams of smooth movements and tender gestures.

He curses behind the steering wheel because if he as a man feels like this, he wonders how a woman would feel.

 

 

 

Baekhyun feels like a psychopath, going home from work and thinking and rethinking how he should approach the mysterious man. Yet he can’t bring himself to give up, needing to come up with a plan. The curiosity is eating him alive – it had always done – and not being able to pull himself together for eight hours straight in order to get his work done is beginning to become a problem. He just prays for his boss to be blind enough and let him slip this time.

He considers of waiting outside the club and pay attention enough to the all guys wearing caps that enter but then again he could as well not wear it from the beginning and everything goes in vain. Or he could scan the club until he finds someone close enough as good in dancing as the inhuman creature that makes their jaws drop but then again, several people could dance well enough and his hopes fly again. Or he could just sit by the improvised stage – or the DJ’s booth – close enough to be able to catch him when he’s about to leave but that would be too creepy.

He gives up in frustration eventually, simply deciding to drive himself to the club right after he finishes at work. He parks the car two streets away, walking to his destination and smiles widely when he meets Xiumin ten meters away from the entrance. The older man laughs.

“What are you even doing here at his hour?” his voice incredulous as if he’d had two heads instead of one. He chooses to shrug, not knowing how exactly he could explain himself.

“You realize it’s another hour until we officially open up, right!?” the short man continues his question as they take left to the entrance, going to the staff’s lockers, no one there yet to stop Baekhyun from entering. Besides, he knows Xiumin so he’d had approval.

“I know, I just feel like shit lately, you could make an exception and give me a drink a little earlier,” he half jokes only, partially telling the truth. He seriously needs a strong drink, his head is about to explode.

“As if, you won’t see any until Choi comes and all the staffs are here...” he snorts and Baekhyun feels like wailing. Life is so unfair to him lately.

“Where are you guys anyway, shouldn’t you come earlier to do the opening?” he rubs at his right eye as Xiumin is halfway getting dressed. He cannot understand why there is always Xiumin and eventually Chanyeol the first ones each time they are on first shift. Really now, people should be more punctual.

“They will come eventually,” and silence falls over them as the other finishes getting dressed and ready, motioning him to take the lead to the great hall.

They climb the ten stairs and walk ahead and Baekhyun lets out a faint laugh when he indeed spots Chanyeol already marching through tables and back to the bar, preparing who knows what, then climbing down the few stairs to get across the dance floor then running back up to the top flat, checking for everything both sides. He should be grateful for his long legs, he thinks, because as Xiumin starts reviewing the bar context, the taller is back, sending them a large smile.  

They greet each other, making small conversation before silence falling back between all three of them. Soon enough, people Baekhyun wants to recognize fill in, some staying, some leaving, some only saluting and then disappearing. It’s been years, and Baekhyun still doesn’t know any more people working there than his best friend and the other seven bartenders which he only recognizes by their faces, in reality knowing only three of them: Chanyeol, Sehun and Yixing. He feels stupid sometimes but he’s not the type of person to make friends with people he doesn’t feel comfortable with. Yes, he is loud and talkative, he is an extrovert but he keeps distance to dubious individuals.

He makes sure to greet and bow thou each time it’s happening to be saluted and when the said Mr. Choi comes when all about twenty people are gathered, he bows deeply flashing a smile, then making himself little and unnoticed. Yes, maybe they already got used to him coming around even before opening hours but he still feels awkward being there when he knows he shouldn’t.

So he’s typing on his phone, playing silly games, when he hears something about some payment for ‘the flash boy’ and he frowns unintentionally. Who the hell is ‘Flash boy’?

 

 

 

Baekhyun is stupid. He never denies this fact, actually acknowledging quite often. He is stupid, because when Xiumin smiles so brightly at him after being set up behind the counter and finally pouring him a drink, his brain finally makes the connection. There is that look into his friend’s eyes and he knows; he just knows. He has forgotten that it was Friday, week end, and that meant so many things.

His eyebrows knit together, fingers reaching for the placed glass on the bar.

“You guys really named him ‘the Flash boy’?“ he’s somewhere between bewildered and amused, too busy to actually remember laughing.

“It’s not like he’s behaving like a normal person and doesn’t run off immediately, I told you we don’t know much about him...”

“Dude, ‘the Flash boy’, really?” his voice goes two tones higher, actually getting somehow irritated, like he’d be related to the stranger. He doesn’t even know himself anymore and he can’t even stop himself from turning this way. He leans back though, teeth abusing his bottom lip, fingers still on the edge of the glass but remaining untouched.

“He could actually be a teen and you wouldn’t even know...” he more like murmurs to himself but Xiumin sends him a heavy glare.

“Not really like that, he actually has his access I.D, so he must be legal...” but he doesn’t respond, only snorting and shouting a soft ‘yeah, right...’ as if they weren’t in Itaewon-dong. “Don’t mock me, Byun Baek, you know they scan the I.D. before giving the wristbands,” he gets scolded and he rolls his eyes because getting on Xiumin’s nerves is never a good thing.

He agrees with him only to not get beaten up honestly.

“Better get your ass up; they are starting to get in... blend in and move a little, will you?!” he gets told and he groans in despair. He just wants to drink, not doing anything else.

Yet he finds himself getting his glass and nodding to Xiumin as he gets going, climbing up the stairs to the flat, taking a moment on the left side. He sees the DJ’s booth perfectly, the side stages empty as he still prepares his mixes. The whole floor is kind of empty, only some of the side tables having people around, getting ready for a heated night. He smirks as he sees another two bartenders attending the right side of the club but not having the same agility as his hyung. Xiumin is irreplaceable.

There are years behind his back, years and years working and mastering what he’s doing. It’s a lot of a passion as well because Xiumin loves what he’s doing, he likes discovering new ideas, new tastes, new colours. He loves listening to others, even consoling them.

He leans on the railing and looks around the hall again. It get’s crowded as minutes pass and he wonders what kind of a program the club has tonight. If it’s electro again it will get heated as hell and he groans internally. He still remembers the last time it happened, he barely got out alive, drenched in sweat, his shirt ripped around the sleeves. He sighs but it passes quickly as he hears steps behind him, people starting to flood the flat as well.

Baekhyun’s back straightens as he tongues the inside of his cheek. There runs impatience through his veins and excitement as well, eyes clever as of an eagle but then the club fill almost to its limits and he still hasn’t gotten sigh of any black baseball cap, only loud dudes, bulky ones with shinny or colourful caps kept only on the side of their probably empty heads, dressed in low kept jeans or ripped ones.

None of them resemble the lithe, harmonious body that sends chills down his spine. So the excitement is replaced with disappointment when he gulps down the last of his drink. It’s gonna be a long night.

 

 

It’s suffocating. He starts hyperventilating at some point during the night as he feels the people on his back grinding and humping and he hasn’t felt this uncomfortable for years. It’s like living the pre teenage years again, being awkward and freaked out at any sexual movement or intention. That until he discovered the bliss in his late adolescence. But he’s not in the mood for one night stands; he’s not in the mood for a fuck and then face the hangover alone in cold sheets.

So he takes a seat at the bar, head buried into his hands and regaining his breath. He probably sits like that for a while, because even if he has heard xiumin’s call he chose to ignore it but then there is that feeling on the back of his head as if he’s being watched for some time. He sighs as he bares his face and looks up, to his left more precisely.

He was right. He was being watched. He just caught the kid staring. So he stares back and the kid blinks. At least Baekhyun thinks he’s a kid, because he looks young but not too young – average enough to be able to enter a club – with fair skin, yet some blemishes betraying here and there. He’s dressed in a cosy parka, a little too big over the other’s frame and maybe that is what makes Baekhyun think he’s a kid. The other’s jaw definitely isn’t.

The boy’s lips twitch, still staring, unmoving. It’s when he bites into his bottom lip that he finally moves and talks for Baekhyun’s surprise.

“Looks like you need a Red Lotus or something....” and he’s taken aback because as the voice is rough and deep, it cracks with light tones and softness, shyness even. It’s more like a murmur underneath all the jamming noise inside the venue. Baekhyun blinks, frozen in his seat.

Then the guy raises his hand to the bar level and pushes his full glass to him, presenting his drink, as in __giving__  it to him. “Here, take this!” Baekhyun is stoned. It’s like his brain just short-circuited. He blinks again. The guy looks between his drink and Baekhyun, eyes uncertain and... He’s just about to protest because, really, he shouldn’t –

“Don’t worry, I haven’t drugged it, nor did I drink from it... it was meant for my friend but I think you need it more than him anyway!” and there is a full smile on his face this time, a smile that sends Baekhyun away, breaking his brain for real.

“Okay, so.... have fun, I guess!” he says and he takes off before Baekhyun managing to function properly again actually behaving like a human being and not like a statue.

He’s about to stand up as he blinks to nothing in front of him, fingers reaching for the cold drink, and run after the stranger, telling him that no, he shouldn’t have done that and that no, he can have his friend’s drink back because he doesn’t need it and he doesn’t want pity; but he kind of needs it and when he turns around, still seated, he sees the red and white parka running into a short body, another young man, hands gripping onto forearms and dragging him away, along the confused words of ‘where’s my drink?’ and ‘come on, just figured something’.

He’s being left dumbfound with a drink in his hand, still haven’t saying his thanks. But he gulps it anyway.  

He ends up leaving somewhere near three in the morning, not waiting for Xiumin to finish his work. The other hasn’t complained because looking at the look on his face he could clearly tell something was off. After all, the flash kid hadn’t performed. He was just glad the other was sober enough to drive back home but gave him a coffee anyway, nagging him to drink it before taking the wheel. And Baekhyun did, being glad now that he steps on the gas pedal in order to speed closer to home.

He blinks his eyes quickly, focusing on the road, careful not to make any mistakes. He tries to remain as conscious as one can be, as moral as he can. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, driving after drinking even one beer, more so alcoholic cocktails but the rush, the feeling of speed, the vibrations of hitting the road, the adrenaline running through his veins as his body feels the speed through the metal gear.

That feeling he cannot get rid of it.... he’s addicted, and not only when he comes back from the club, sober or a little tipsy but every time he speeds up. And he chooses to do that late into the night, when the streets are a little emptier, when he cannot put people at risk as much as during the day. It’s at least he can do for this uncommon passion of his.

He swears he should have been born for racing as he flashes down the road, five more streets until he reaches home.

 

 

 

__“Guess what?”__  Baekhyun doesn’t look up. He really needs to finish reading the papers he’s been given to. Suddenly, the phone call put on speaker doesn’t seem so appealing anymore and his body itches to lean over and end the call.

__“You just missed the performance; the kid actually came five minutes after you left....”_ _

He’s frozen into his seat. He even frowns at the flashing phone on the desk. __What__?

 

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun wakes up in cold shivers halfway through his sleep as if respecting the habit he developed in the last mounts. The sheets feel glued to his skin and he’s uncomfortable laying in bed to the point he actually wakes up for good and leaves the cocoon he’s created for a trip to the bathroom.

The reflection in the mirror looks like crap, with red eyes, dry lips and face tired from exhaustion. He thinks of washing his face, clearing his mind and going back to sleep, maybe drinking a glass of water and checking upon Xiumin in the living room before doing so but the tent in his pants clearly cancels all those thoughts.

His lips almost escape a whine but not really, something closer to a moan. It’s been a while since he’d woken up to a hard on; it’s been a lot actually, more precisely since puberty. Yes, he had dreamed of the other often, maybe too often, but he never woke up like this.

 

 


	4. How love feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you have your own fashion company and maintained yourself in top 3, are married and burried in work, all by the age of 27, you do not think about love and passion anymore. At least not until you meet him: twenty years old, stunning lad that enters your office and swipes you off your feet. The worse is you even watched him grow.

Okay, so this is not a snippet, actually it was but i deleted it but the idea stuck and .... here i am.

So the story went something like this:

Minseok is a fashion designer who runs his company along with Baek and Jongdae. He is also engaged in an arranged marriage for five years, a marriage he hasn't even consumed. His wife actually loves an old friend and he understands, he gives her space, he is friends with both of them.

One day, Jongdae slacks, mind all over the place, even more hyper than usual and all because his cousin comes to Seoul after graduation, beeing part in a project of National Opera. So off course he is super excited, they all are actually, because both Baek and Minseok used to know the scrawnny, clinging kid Jongin was some years ago from their vacantion trip to Jongdae's hometown.

What they don't know is the tall, lean, young man that presents himself in front of Minseok office door, asking for Kim Jongdae, in urgent need of taxi payment. So Minseok is shocked to find out that Jongin is not so little anymore, not such a kid anymore, not so timid as he used to be when he first met him. and he finds himself in position of making the perfect suit for Jongin showcase, suit that Jongdae perstered him for months ago and suddenly he cannot deal with all these feelings. Not when he has to spend so much time with the now grown up man and in such close proximity because Jongin is not really the easiest to work with and to please when it comes to clothing. He never even had a pair of shoes.

 

pretty much here the link has snapped and stopped myself. ugh, it was so much nicer when i had written it, i feel so sorry that i deleted it.


End file.
